If It Kills Me
by starbuckmeggie
Summary: Thoughts on a moment. From "The Cold"


This little ditty was heavily inspired by the song "If It Kills Me" by Jason Mraz. It's not good, but I wanted to write it anyway. I highly recommend listening to the song, even if you don't like this story.

* * *

I've been distracted by her all day. I can't help but stare at her. What is it about her that's so captivating that I haven't seen before now?

Maybe I just haven't let myself see it.

Donna has been off-limits for so long that I just haven't let myself notice all these things about her that, apparently, drive me wild.

Part of me keeps thinking she's still off limits; each time I catch myself staring at her, it's almost immediately followed by a wave of…something. Guilt, maybe? Shame, for taking advantage of someone in her position, someone who answers to me. But she's not exactly my assistant anymore, is she? She's a spokesperson for a national campaign. She's an adult. She's _all_ woman. And she was an active participant in that hotel room this morning.

God, but was it inappropriate? I mean, yeah, I was excited and operating purely on emotion and instinct, and it seems that my first instinct, when experiencing great joy, is to grab Donna and kiss her. I'm only assuming this is true because when she told me Vinick has a cold, it took every ounce of willpower I have to not grab her and kiss her again during that rally.

It's alarming how quickly I've shifted into "I should kiss Donna" mode. Donna looks cute and nervous sitting next to me in a car—I should kiss her. Donna's sitting on a fountain ledge looking every inch like something out of a movie—maybe I should kiss her again, just in case. Donna gives me her megawatt grin about getting to meet Bono—I should definitely kiss her now. Donna laughing with the rest of the crew as we brainstorm in the White House—maybe she wouldn't mind if I walked up and kissed her right now. Donna with her hair down, drinking a glass of wine out on the patio with some of the staff as I watch, stalker-like, from the shadows—maybe she wouldn't mind if I just put my arm around her and kissed her until neither of us can see straight.

I sigh and rub my hand over my face. I keep my phone pressed to my ear, though it's entirely for show. In case anyone notices me across the courtyard and wonders why I'm not being social, I had the brilliant idea to pretend to be talking on the phone. No one needs to know that I absolutely can't stop staring at Donna Moss.

This is killing me. I _do not_ need this sort of distraction right now. We have a matter of weeks left of this campaign, we've _just_ managed to tie things up, and it's going to be non-stop until Election Day. We'll be working around the clock, travelling across the country a dozen times over just to try to secure each state. There is absolutely no time for anything that so much as smells of romance. I have no time to stop and think about Donna and how she felt pressed against me this morning. There's no time to think about just how soft her lips are or how as I was kissing her, I felt something literally shift into place. There's no time for any of that.

I'm surprised she can't feel me staring at her right now. I don't think she's even aware of my presence, which is nice because even thought I don't have time for this, I also can't stop myself from looking at her.

Donna said it was bound to happen some time—was it? Was that moment this morning inevitable? She didn't seem to regret it, and she sure as hell kissed me just as hard as I kissed her, but it doesn't seem to be haunting her the way it is me. Other than looking a little shy in the car this morning, she's regrouped nicely, as if the entire world didn't shift on its access in a tired hotel room before sunrise.

Am I reading too much into it? Was that moment simply unavoidable in some sort of cosmic way, and now that it's out of the way, everything is just supposed to go back to the way it was? Do I want it to go back? Does she? Was it just a blip on her radar, her easily-excitable-when-it-comes-to-campaign-numbers boss behaving as she would expect him to when he receives good news? Will she settle into sleep tonight without so much as a passing thought as to what transpired between us? Has she forgotten about it already?

That feels like a kick to my gut. Really, I should want her to forget about it, and that would certainly make everything so much easier. It was a moment. It was a reaction to a moment. That's all it needs to be. It's out of our systems and even though it wasn't hanging over us before, we can definitely just get on with our lives and focus on the campaign now. Other than the fact that I really want to kiss her again and the idea that this morning might have been the most she ever wanted from me makes me physically ache…other than that, we can definitely get on with our lives.

I hear laughter and look up in time to see Donna throw her head back in mirth. I have to turn away. If I don't, I don't know that I'll be able to stop myself from going over there, grabbing her hand, and running off into the sunset. Which is madness, because we have just a couple of weeks until the election and all of my focus needs to be there and how could I possibly imagine throwing it all away just to be with Donna?

I have a small moment of blinding clarity where I realize I absolutely would throw it all away for Donna. I've come really close to doing that a few times in my career, for one reason or another—why would this moment be any different? This moment that is so much more tangible than all the others we've had, this moment that feels like it could mean something…

I've got to pull myself together and focus. This election is bigger than me and Donna. This election is about making sure the right man is in office for at least another four years. I can't go chasing after some woman, no matter how much or how long I've wanted her. Donna would get that. No matter how quirky she can be, she's brilliant and reasonable and knows this campaign is absolutely a priority. There's no way she'd be offended by this choice, if she's even concerned about the choice at all.

Time to man up. I have to put my phone away and go over to those people and pretend that I'm an adult and not some lovesick fifteen-year-old.

It still takes every ounce of courage I have to follow through, though. It takes monumental effort to walk the few dozen feet and to do it casually. Every instinct says I should maneuver myself so that I walk behind Donna, just on the off chance that I might be able to get our coats to brush "accidentally," so I take the long way around instead, trying to make relevant comments to a conversation that doesn't interest me, playing it cool when she speaks to me and pretending it doesn't make my insides do a very strange dance. I sit across from her—the seat is open and I feel like it's a safe distance from her, but also close enough so that I can get my fix. My view is unobstructed and even if I can't just openly stare at her—as I fear I must have been doing all day—at least I can look at her frequently without it seeming too weird.

But when I glance over at her, she already has her attention focused on me, giving me a look I can't decipher. She doesn't hurriedly avert her eyes, which is almost unnerving, and instead just casually returns her attention to the conversation. She puts something on the table and pushes it at me, my heart almost stopping when I realize it's an envelope with a key.

That's the first and only crack I see in her façade. For just a split second, she looks terrified—terrified of what? That I'll say no? That I'll say yes? It's gone before I can process it and she stands, saying goodnight to everyone.

The world around me comes to a halt. She walks away as if everything between us didn't suddenly change. Is she really offering me her room key? There's no other way to interpret that, right? She wants me to come to her room and…wow.

Oh, wow.

For a couple of long seconds, that's all I can think about—me, Donna, me and Donna, and all the things this key implies and I almost start to salivate. _Finally_, this is sanctioned. _Finally_, I don't have to watch her walk off with some jackass who doesn't know her favorite color or that she talks to her parents at least twice a week without fail. _Finally_, it's my chance. I'm here, she's available, she's willing, no one's on the rebound, no one is anyone's superior, and I won't have to be there to listen to her talk about whatever idiot she dated or to pick up the pieces when it goes to hell. I get to be the jackass this time.

Hell yes.

I lean forward to grab the key and, before I can blink, Edie's handing it to Donna and she's looking at me through the glass door, disappointment etched all over her face. A million different emotions rush through me then, doubt and insecurity at the top of the list. Now that I've been jarred out of the moment, I can't help but question the choice I was about to make. Is this really how I want to do this with her? Is this truly how she wants to do this with me? Would it be more than just a release of pressure, brought on either by the stress of the campaign or by years of dancing around each other? Am I over thinking this? Should I just go to her anyway? She put the key out there for a reason.

I don't know if I can. Even after all this, after all we've been through…I don't know if the timing is right. I do want her—I want her in all the ways a guy wants a woman, and it's never felt clearer to me than at this moment. It's good to have her friendship back; it's better than good, really. It makes me feel like something's finally going right in the middle of all this mess. But after this morning…I'm really starting to understand that being her friend might not be enough and that thought somehow paralyzes me. Maybe it's the fear of ruining everything between us again, or maybe it's the fear that she'll decide that I'm not what she wants…or maybe it's the terrifying possibility that she's the one person I've been able to picture spending my life with and I don't know how to do that yet.

I don't know how to find any of those words. I don't know how to tell her what I want or what I'm scared of, and it all feels like too much right now.

I give Donna a small smile, trying to convey to her as much of this as possible, to let her know that this isn't me turning her down, that I just can't get myself together enough to figure anything out. I don't know if any of it translates. She still looks disappointed. She turns and walks away, disappearing into the hotel, not sparing me another glance.

I'm vaguely aware of the voices around me, still chattering inanely as they try to blow off steam after another long day. I sit back in my chair, not even pretending to listen. I want to run after her. I want to at least call her, explain that I'm an idiot and I just need time to figure things out. I'm also completely terrified of how she might react to me right now.

I have to hope that I still have a shot with her. I have to hope that this one moment didn't ruin any chance we might have.

I'll figure this out. I'll find a way back to her. Even if it kills me.


End file.
